


Make Me Lose Control

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: Consensual Mind Control, Escape, F/F, Government Experimentation, Guilt, Human Experimentation, Non-sexual torture, Role Reversal, Simulated Sex, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: Mel didn't know what she was getting into when she started working at the secret government research facility at Dewline. And now she has a darker secret than her ethical objections to how the experimental subjects are treated: the fact that in her erotic fantasies, she likes to imagine herself in their place.Unfortunately (or fortunately?) Subject AA-1408 can read Mel's mind...





	Make Me Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Edonohana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/gifts).



AA-1408 was sitting on the bed in Mel's room. She was wearing the pajamas that they gave all the subjects, her bare feet on the sheets, arms wrapped around her knees, straight brown hair hanging lank around her shoulders. Mel took a half-step back. They were going to find out--maybe 1408 had been able to convince the guard to let her pass, or something like that, but there were cameras, and those were monitored remotely. There wasn't any way that she would be able to avoid getting caught. In ten seconds Dewline would be under lockdown, and they'd use remotes to restrain her.

1408 looked up at Mel and smiled. "It's nice that you're worried for me. I mean, most people, they'd be worried about me."

That was true; the subjects that they'd brought out to Dewline were all dangerous, each in different ways. It didn't make things right, but it was true. And--

"Sorry," 1408 laughed. "I wasn't trying to frighten you; I was just saying. Anyhow. I'm not really here. Remote cameras and so on will see me lying in bed, sleeping peacefully. They're going to see you acting a little weird, though, so if you want to avoid attention, you probably should keep doing what you normally do?"

Mechanically, Mel shut the door behind her, sat down at her desk, and stared at her computer. That was what she did most nights, really--worked until she was off shift, and then stared at the newsfeed that they let through the base's filters. Not clicking any links, not getting any work done. Just looking at a set of headlines that were as depressing as the endless snow and pine forests outside, and then nothing.

"They don't have microphones in here," said 1408. "You can talk, if you want."

She was still there. She was 100%, definitely still there. There wasn't any way this was a fake or anything. But Mel still looked at her computer, not at the girl who wasn't there, and hoped that it was real, and it wasn't some sort of test.

"What's your name?" she said. "They didn't let me find out anything about... I mean, it bothers me, that you don't have a name, here."

"I have a name here," said 1408. "There's the number they call me, and there's my name. That hasn't gone away because of where I am. But I'm not sure if telling it to you is a great idea. You're going to start thinking of me as... I mean, as what my name is. And you might make a mistake; if it slips out, that's going to mean trouble down the line."

Mel nodded, looking at her screen. That made sense. "Okay. I'm sorry about my part in this, you know."

"Yeah I know," said 1408. "I mean, I can read your mind pretty well. Also, other things. Don't worry about it; it's okay."

It wasn't, and they both knew that, but moving on. "How are you here?" said Mel. "According to what we know about you, you have telepathic receptivity to 200 meters, and only occasionally. You shouldn't be able to transmit at all, certainly not like this."

Mel was looking straight at the computer screen. And yet, she knew that 1408 was smiling. She had to turn to see that; 1408 never smiled, not ever. Which was fair enough, given what they were putting her through, but... Mel looked. 1408 had a really pretty smile. Mel looked back to her computer.

"The thing is," said 1408, "I know that you brought us here to learn about us. Maybe learn from us? But when someone brings that up, it gets shut down pretty fast. I guess nobody wants to wind up in cages. But the thing is, we're together, you know? And we've been learning a lot from each other."

Mel's eyes widened. If she could... if they could... okay. Why hadn't they considered that possibility?

Because they didn't really think of the subjects as people, so they didn't think of them doing their own research.

"Also," said 1408, "you think of this as something intrinsic to us. Like we're monsters, so of course we have fangs and claws. But it's also a skill that we can learn. I mean, two years back, I was a college freshman who would occasionally have weird dreams, and heard little snatches of conversations that weren't really conversations. If I hadn't mentioned some of that at the student clinic, it wouldn't have gone past that. Now... well, you know. Anyhow. Last question."

"Why are you here?" asked Mel, looking resolutely at her computer. There were some headlines. All of them were depressing, and she couldn't do anything about any of them. And she knew that 1408 was smiling again. And she also knew that 1408 knew exactly what she meant, and she also knew that 1408 knew what Mel hoped the answer would be, and...

"So you know how I said that nobody wants to wind up in cages?" said 1408. "It seems that's not strictly true. Because, you know. Get a lot of things that people are thinking about me. And I hope I'm not stepping on any toes here, but some of your co-workers are real creeps."

Mel tensed. "Is it Moore?" she said. "Because that guy is--"

"Not a great idea to tell you things that you shouldn't know," said 1408. "But also not my point. My point is, when you see the way we're being maltreated, you're also a little creepy about that. Only the other way around--you kind of want someone to maltreat you, don't you?"

There wasn't any way to deny it, or any point in denying it. Mel had known that some of the subjects could read minds--1416 and 1402 were both constant receptors, and while neither of them had ever shown the abilities that 1408 was showing, Dewline wasn't somewhere that encouraged skeptics. The evidence was there, there wasn't any avoiding it.

"But," said 1408, "if you don't want to do this, you can avoid it. Say no, and I'm gone. I mean, you're not going to remember the conversation, but that's sort of self preservation, you know?"

Mel knew. When they'd confirmed that 1320 could force people to do what he wanted, the remote drones had rendered him comatose and shipped him to a different facility. Well, they said they'd shipped him to a different facility, but they said lots of things.

"I'm not saying no," said Mel.

1408 laughed. It was an honest, open laugh, and it sort of broke Mel's heart, because she'd never heard 1408 laugh before. "Pretty great how you didn't think that first," she said. "You just said it. Anyway. I think you can get away with coming to bed at this point."

Mel nodded at her computer screen, then stood up. It was a little earlier than she'd usually go to sleep, but it was within the range of plausible.

"Lights out first," said 1408. She was still sitting on Mel's bed, still hugging her legs. She looked pale, worn out, but it wasn't like Dewline spent a lot of time on the subjects' skin care, or let them out for sunshine. And her hair was a pretty medium brown; if she had the chance to take care of it, she'd--

"Well I think you look fine the way you are," said 1408, and Mel flushed. There wasn't any privacy at all from her, not really.

"No," said 1408. "Which is why you should get undressed now."

It was an order. But Mel was choosing to obey it, not being forced, not like what 1320 had done.

"I could do that to," said 1408. "I mean, pretty clear you want me to. But soon. First get undressed. Been a while since anyone's taken off their clothing for me."

Mel took off her clothing for her. It wasn't a sexy striptease, but even when Mel couldn't quite bear it, she kept looking at 1408, who was eying her hungrily, watching her crotch and her breasts, and... Mel was done and stood facing her, naked.

"And open," said 1408. "Okay. Lights out, now."

It wasn't the first time she'd gone to sleep naked. "And they don't actually use starlight scopes on the staff quarters," said 1408. "Honestly, given what I've picked up about security, I feel like you guys really aren't doing everything that you should be. But moving on." She patted the bed next to her.

Mel knew that 1408 wasn't really there. Or at least, she believed it. But when the sheet didn't move at all where 1408 patted it, she had a quick moment of nausea, like she was in a plane which had hit an air pocket.

1408 frowned. "Sorry about that," she said. "Figured it'd be better if you could see me, but at the same time, there are issue with trying to... anyhow. Turn off the light and lie down."

Mel turned off the light and lay down. She knew that she was alone in her room. That thing with the sheet confirmed it. And yet, she also knew that 1408 was there. She could feel the weight on her cot, she could feel her heat, even smell the industrial soap/shampoo that they used on the subjects.

"There's a difference between knowing something and experiencing it," said 1408. Mel lay down on her back, looking up into the darkness. "Might be possible for me to change both, but it doesn't seem like a great idea, you know? Too much chance of things getting screwy. But speaking of experiencing things. Here's how it's going to go. I'm going to try a few different things. If you say anything--you can make noises, but if you say any words, I'm going to stop. Okay?"

"Okay," Mel breathed, intensely aware of the other woman's presence, of what had been done to 1408, what was still being done to 1408, how she was a part of it. And also...

1408 lay down next to her, her pajamas rough against Mel's skin. "It's like I said," she said. "You get people who are all, 'haha, stupid bitch, getting what she deserves.' And you get a few who are more sad and hopeless on our behalf. But it's kind of fun to have someone who is both that one and a little bit, 'it would be super hot if someone was doing this to me.'"

Mel wasn't sure if 1408 would leave if she said anything, but even if not, she didn't have the faintest idea about what she could say to that. A chuckle, right by her cheek. "It's nice, though," said 1408. "Gives a fun point of view. Now, I'm going to try to relax you, hard as I can."

Mel tensed, and then couldn't tense anywhere. Her head lolled to the side, every muscle loosened; she was suddenly breathing slow and deep and... it was like all the pressure of her whole life had just suddenly left. It was astonishingly good. "Do me a favor," said 1408. "Try to lift your hand."

Mel tried. There wasn't any way. It wasn't as though she was restrained, or like she was pushing against anything. It was just that she was way too tired and relaxed to even try to do anything. If she hadn't known that 1408 was trying something, she wouldn't have even noticed that she couldn't move her hand. Or her foot. Or... could she say something, if she wanted? If not, that was--

"You can," said 1408. "But that's it. I think? Probably. But here--let's see what happens when you're a little more motivated to move."

1408 was lying down right next to her. It wasn't that wide a cot, so the two of them were pressed up against each other. But she hadn't been touching her. Now she was. First she moved a lock of hair off of Mel's cheek, and then she followed the line of her cheek to her ear, and then down her neck.

It was a light, gentle touch, and it had been a long, long time since Mel had let anyone touch her like that. How could she, when they were somewhere like Dewline? She wanted to turn, to face 1408 even if she couldn't see her. And she couldn't. She couldn't move. She couldn't even breathe any faster.

"Heartrate is normal too," said 1408. "Maybe a little more, hm?"

If she said anything, 1408 was gone. But Mel definitely wanted a little more, hm. And 1408 knew it. Her hand went down from Mel's ear along her neck. And then down to her breast.

She couldn't move, and she couldn't moan and she couldn't... but her nipple stiffened as 1408 rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, and she could feel her skin coming alive everywhere that she was touched. Was this a good idea? She didn't even know the girl--she couldn't--

"You do know me," said 1408. "You've seen me eat and sleep and defecate. You know how I respond to stress tests and challenges, what I look like when I'm afraid and hungry. You know me. Better than just about anyone ever did. And I know you..." her hand moved from Mel's breast to her ribs, finding the faint, invisibly faint line of the scar. "You used to tell people it was from when you tried to break up a bar fight. But it was a lawnmower motor that you really shouldn't have been trying to fix without knowing what the hell you were doing."

That was... there wasn't anyone else who knew that. Not even Mel's dad, who'd taken her to the hospital for stitches.

"Honestly, though," said 1408, "if you want to leave it here, that's fine. You've been a really big help."

Mel did not want to leave it there. Very much not. And 1408 knew that just as well as she did. Her hand moved lower, flat against Mel's stomach, and she kissed her neck, light touches of soft lips against Mel's skin as her hand moved further down to her pussy.

Not rubbing it, not pushing, just there. And Mel couldn't push against it, couldn't move at all, held completely motionless, barely able to even want to move. If her heartrate had been normal before, it certainly wasn't then--she could feel the speed of her pulse in her fingers, hear it over the soft noises of 1408 settling in beside her, the scratch of the sheets and blankets. "It's nice, though," said 1408. "To hold something like that."

Something that wasn't a test. Something that wasn't going to be taken away. Something that was hers. And she was, she really was. 1408 wasn't the strongest--well, according to their tests she wasn't particularly powerful, but she was clearly more powerful than anyone they'd ever had at Dewline. But that wasn't it; even if she hadn't been able to receive any sort of psychic impressions, even if she couldn't levitate anything at all, she'd been the strongest and most resilient person that Mel had ever seen. Nobody could keep... 

Mel's thoughts unraveled as 1408 reached up and opened Mel's mouth. Two fingers along her tongue, to the back of her throat. She might have gagged, but she didn't--she couldn't. It felt strange and weird and demeaning and when 1408's hand went from her mouth back to her pussy, it was so wet that the saliva didn't even matter. 1408 found the wetness of her pussy, then her fingers slid down, back and forth, along the sides of her clit. They were strong, blunt-nailed fingers, and Mel couldn't move at all, couldn't respond. Her hips were utterly still, her breath was only a little irregular. If she could just thrust once, just push up as 1408 bore down... 1408 bit the lobe of her ear. "You can't though," she said, softly. "You can only do what I make you do."

Mel managed the faintest little whimper at that, her mouth closing. It was frightening and true and what she wanted, and she really did have the ability to say something, if she wanted.

"Well," said 1408. "Okay. You have been a big help."

The relaxation was gone. Mel ground up against 1408's hand, hard, fast, and 1408 moved it exactly where it needed to be, the heel of her palm firm and smooth against Mel's desperate grinding. The orgasm was a big one. Mel's jaw locked and her breath caught, and she pulled up so hard on her sheets that when she could finally breathe again it had come off the corners of her bed, and she was half covered in it.

"That looked like fun," said 1408. "Anyhow. I'll be seeing you."

"I... could I please--"

"Sorry," said 1408, and she sounded sorry. "I mean, if it's important, I could give you the illusion of touching me. But since you can't lie to me, it doesn't really seem fair for me to lie to you. You can't really touch me, not here, not like this--it's just a way for me to interact with you that feels natural to both of us."

That made sense.

"And I really need to get some sleep. They're going to be doing the waterboarding thing again tomorrow, and that's... well. Need my strength for that, anyway."

Mel had been against that protocol since she'd gotten there. But it had been effective at getting maximal responses in every group since the 1100s. And--

"And also it's kinda hot," said 1408. "I know, I know."

Then she was gone.

Mel wasn't quite as relaxed as she had been when 1408 had imposed it on her. But she was way too relaxed to get up and tuck the sheets back in, or anything like that. She fell asleep fast and hard, and slept right through until the alarm went off, not troubled by the dreams that had been crowding around her ever since the department of defense had transferred her up to the back end of nowhere, to continue her research under more controlled conditions.

#

The next morning, Mel was supposed to be working with 1421. He was a tall, gaunt black kid, and they were working on positive feedback. It was an apple, hanging just a few feet away from where 1421 could reach it, and the subjects didn't have a lot of sugar in their diets. Every session that he managed to pull it in, they moved the sweet a little further away. For a while, he'd refused to try, but the positive reinforcement tests were a lot more pleasant than the negative consequences that Dewline had used for the 100 through the 800 series.

Mel had offered an opinion that something like an apple or a candy bar would work better than ration chits or instructions over the intercom--there was a presence to the real thing a visibility to it, and the results seemed to bear that out. But now that she knew that the results were being manipulated by the subjects, it was... well, they wanted the staff of Dewline to think about the paranormal abilities as coming from somewhere deeper than the cognitive layer, as something animal and subject to animal response, rather than something that could be learned and which could be taught.

She watched 1421 straining against his restraints, and the apple inching toward him. If it was fake, he was acting well; there were beads of sweat on his forehead, and his muscles were corded with effort. He pulled the apple in, finally, across the new maximum distance, and ate it resentfully, staring directly into the monitoring camera on the far wall.

It was all fake. Or, maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe nothing had happened the night before. She'd had a dream, or a fantasy, and was pretending that it was real. She recorded notes on the session--nothing out of the ordinary, that they increase the maximum, but keep at least 20% of the iterations of the test below his maximum. The duration was also important, and they needed to test which positive reinforcement would work best for him by running various alternatives.

And then there was the possibility of requiring him to work for essentials. Mel didn't put that down, but Luc had, and she was going to have to try to find some way of arguing against it at the weekly meeting. With that done, she looked over the data that they had on 1408 from the night before.

She hadn't been keeping that close a watch on the time, while things had been happening. But, rough estimate, it looked like 1408 had been awake, alone in her cell. It was out of active hours, but even though she'd been lying down with her eyes closed, REM sleep hadn't started until later. It was possible. Heart rate had been elevated, pulse had been up. It was... well, there wasn't good data. And even though the waterboarding wasn't part of her research area, they were expected to keep up on the other projects running at Dewline, so Mel went to watch 1408 enduring her torture.

1408 was strapped down to the inclined bench, her pajamas stained with sweat at her armpits, with splashes of water here and there. 1403 was there as well, strapped to a chair, awake, gagged.

"Say the password, and it stops," said the orderly, looking bored.

"I don't know!" said 1408. Her voice was strained, cracking; Mel could see the raw areas on her wrists, where she'd been pulling at the restraints. "Telephone! Ankle! Backpack!"

The orderly sighed, put the cloth down, dribbling the water down across it. Mel watched 1408's chest heaving, her head shaking, her phelgmy coughing when the cloth was taken away. "Say the password, and it stops," said the orderly.

"I..." 1408 sobbed, wetly. 1403 could see her, where he was sitting, and Mel could see the sympathy in his eyes. He was a better transmitter than 1408 was a receiver, but he was very spotty--some days, they could get whole paragraphs, other days... 

"Blueberry," said 1408. "It's blueberry, right?"

"Good," said the orderly. "Next word?"

"Walk." And then "Yankee." And then... and then she didn't know, again. The cloth went back over her face.

Mel turned and walked away. It was possible, but at the same time, it probably hadn't happened. It was just that she was guilty about what she was doing, and she was guilty about seeing herself strapped down to that table, feeling her breath taken away unless she did what they wanted from her. Which wasn't okay under any circumstances. But maybe was her way of coping? It wasn't-- It hadn't happened. It was just an excuse.

"Not just an excuse," said 1408, in her ear. "Keep walking, though, and don't talk."

Mel kept walking. 1408 wasn't there, not even the way she had been the night before. And then Mel felt 1408's hand on her ass. A long, careful squeeze. "Sorry not sorry," said 1408. "Anyhow."

It wasn't real, though. 1408 hadn't been faking. There wasn't any way. That video was viewed remotely, by three different stations. They couldn't--

"I wasn't faking anything," said 1408. "Emily was blocking the transmitter, and Gray was blocking me from receiving. It wasn't easy to push through that, but, you know. We were motivated. That part works anyway."

Oh. That was... well, that made sense. They were there, and they were taking advantage of what the staff was doing to them. Mel really should've been terrified instead of relieved, but she couldn't help but being at least a little relieved. Maybe what she was part of wasn't that terrible?

"No," said 1408. "Still not okay. But that doesn't make it your fault. Any more than it's 1403's fault that he didn't get the code to me faster. But my point is, you should go wait to talk to Director Gibson. There's a conversation that's about to happen, which you need to overhear."

There were plenty of reasons for her to talk to the director. Luc's plan to make the telekinetics have to pull in food if they wanted to eat, for one. It'd burn them out, rather than encourage them. And there'd be issues with hoarding, and results distorted by subjects who were distracted by hunger and thirst. And there was the question of what the hell was going on with their overtime pay--they barely had any time to spend anything, only getting a few days leave at an airforce base when they were bringing in a new class, but still, they were supposed to be getting bonuses for overtime, and the department had just stopped doing that, no explanation.

There wasn't anything suspicious about going to talk to the director. And there wasn't any reason not to. So Mel went.

They didn't have any secretaries at Dewline. Staff and orderlies, and that was it, and there were never enough orderlies to handle the actual work. Besides, they didn't want anyone without extensive clearances listening to most of those phone calls anyway. Which meant that there wasn't anyone at the desk outside the director's office. Door was closed, so Mel sat down and waited, and listened to director Gibson arguing with Dr. Moore Kurella.

"They're good, and they're moving quickly," said Moore. "The longer we wait, the fewer of these assets we can deploy. It's a waste, Matt."

"They're good and they're moving quickly," said Gibson. "We're getting better at what we do here. But this is operational. We're supposed to find the right way to train them. Once we have that down, the department will be able to use what we've learned with recruits, with people who we haven't. . ." He sighed. "Look, Moore. I know that you feel for them. But after what we've done to them, we can't trust them in the field. Here, take the test with 1408 and 1403--"

"Right," said Moore. "Take that. Clear communication, once the link is established. Range isn't a limit, can't be intercepted. We can use that in the field--"

"If we could trust them," said Gibson. "We've been spending months waterboarding those two to get that link. Out in the field, I wouldn't want a phone that wanted revenge, and neither would anyone else."

"We could manage hostages. The work these people can do will save lives in the field. We have to--"

"This is the development lab," said the director. "The work that we're doing is already helping us in the field. We've been taking volunteers and training them according to the methods that we've perfected here ever since the 900s. These people... after the improvements that we've seen here, we can't let them loose, and we can't keep training them. There are limits to what we can do if one of them gets loose, and I'm not interested in being sterilized by a drone attack squad. The containment crews have already been dispatched to take care of the 1400s, and we have to move towards getting the protocols ready for the 1500 series."

"But--"

Moore noticed Mel outside the door, and stopped talking. Director Gibson shrugged. "You would've found out sooner or later, Doctor Fischer. What did you want to want to talk about?"

"It's... I don't think it's relevant at this point," said Mel, choosing her words carefully. They were killing the subjects? But... that wasn't... they didn't have to. "If the 1400 series is going to be discontinued, I mean."

"It doesn't have to be," said Moore, and the director went back to talking him down, as Mel went back toward her room.

"Thing is," said 1408, falling into step next to her. "We don't actually want that much revenge. I mean, shit here isn't pleasant, but we've all learned a lot. Fair trade and all. But I guess people are willing to believe the absolute worst of people that they've mistreated. Anyway."

"I didn't know," said Mel. "I thought--"

"Uh, yeah." said 1408. "I'm pretty clear on what you've thought, you know? And also, don't worry too much about it. The containment crews aren't a hundred percent what dicknugget back there thinks they are. Breaking out of here would be a pain in the ass in all sorts of ways. Acting sedated and being taken into unmarked vans is a lot easier."

Mel's breath caught. "So they haven't... I mean."

"They did. Up until three years ago. It's, um... also, the 1500 series is probably going to be the last one. At which point... well, I don't know. Not really my problem."

"No," thought Mel. 1408 wasn't really there. She knew that. She had to start acting like she knew that, whether or not she actually knew that, because she couldn't keep walking down a corridor, talking to herself.

"Right," said 1408. "But here's the thing. If you want, I could fiddle a little bit with some evaluations and security reports and so on."

Mel thought a question at her. Well, she thought a sort of vague and panicky confusion at her. 1408 turned and smiled at her. "See, the question is if you want to stay here, or if you're going to be sedated and shipped out of here in an unmarked van. Because... um. Look, a lot of this is going to be gone from your memory if the answer is no, and--"

The answer was absolutely and unquestionably yes. It had been bad enough when she'd thought that it was something being done for all their benefits. But they were killing... well, they thought they were killing people, and they had killed people, and this wasn't--

1408 chuckled. "At this point... you know what. I leave what comes next as a surprise. Just go down to mess tonight at the usual time, and get a cup of punch; that's where they put the soporifics in that."

Then she was gone. Between one step and the next. Vanished, like she'd never been there.

Mel didn't have anyone back home she wrote to, or anything like that. She'd been interested in scientific study of the paranormal, and that wasn't the sort of thing which encouraged much in the way of contact with sane people anyway. When she disappeared, nobody was going to notice. Nobody except for Moore, and Luc, and Shelly and so on. And they wouldn't really mind. Or if they did, they'd compartmentalize it and move on. Same as when the 1300s had been replaced with the 1400s, and same as when the 1400s were replaced with the 1500s.

When she thought that, Mel had sort of hoped that 1408 would be next to her, would say that things weren't that bad, or whatever. But she was gone, like a missing a tooth.

It could be that it was all lies. 1408 had kept materializing herself when she wasn't there. No reason to think that she couldn't do that with Director Gibson, and the rest of them. It could all be a dream that she was giving her, the same dream that she'd been having since 1408 had appeared on her bed.

It didn't feel like that, though. There had been looks at meetings, empty places where they'd said that the research on program graduates was classified, or inaccessible, and so on. It was more likely that the whole thing was a fantasy that Mel had constructed to avoid her complicity in what was going on, and this wasn't that, either. She'd done graduate work in psychology; there weren't any of the other symptoms of a psychotic break.

She filed her observations and made sure that her files were organized, that she'd made the best possible argument for minimally unpleasant stimuli for the subjects. According to 1408, they were only going to be subjecting one more generation of subjects to their techniques, but there wasn't any reason to allow the abuse to be any worse than it had to be. She couldn't tell them to stop, or even to reconsider what they were doing, but she could perhaps blunt some of the sharper edges.

And then she went to the commissary, where it was long-life meals from cans and vaccum-packs. And a cup of the army-standard off brand Kool-Aid. Red. The orderly giving it to her looked bored, and it tasted like sugar and... well, red. Same as it always did.

Mel started feeling dizzy on the way back to her room; she managed to get through the door before she collapsed.

#

When she woke up, there was a long time when Mel was awake, but not really paying attention to anything. There was the tension of the seatbelt against her chest and shoulder, there was the hum of an engine, and the bumpy rhythm of a road. It was like when she was a kid, and they were heading back from a family thing. There was the comfort of the close air of the car, of people around her, of knowing that there wasn't anything that she had to do, or even anything she could do. Just a warm and quiet place between.

Only she wasn't a kid, and she hadn't been to a family thing for eight years. And it wasn't the New Jersey Turnpike outside; it was snow and trees and a road that was more like a track than a road.

The guy driving looked Inuit, and wore fatigues. 1421 sat next to him, completely relaxed, smoking a cigarette.

That wasn't right--it wasn't healthy to--

1421 laughed, and the driver smiled.

"He's Aleut, actually," said 1408, who was sitting next to her. "One of 1010's cousins. And maybe cigarettes aren't the healthiest, but we've been under a lot of tension lately."

1408 was next to her! Like, actually there, not just in her head or anything. And she looked nearly as relaxed and happy as 1421. It was real.

"Real and in the flesh," said 1408, who reached out and tousled Mel's hair, which made some of it flop down into her face. "Also, it's Georgia."

Georgia. That was a nice name. And it was nice to feel her, for real, to smell her for real. They were together, and unconstrained, and... well, maybe unconstrained was a little disappointing, but--

1421 laughed again, shook his head, as the van pulled off the track-road onto something that was even more of a track. Georgia looked at him, he looked back, and neither of them said anything. But then, they wouldn't have to.

"Accurate," said Georgia. "Which is... hm. Well, first, here we are."

They passed a guard tower hidden by a big spruce, and then a fence. "Great thing about the military is if the orders come from the right place, with the right signatures, people will just straight-up build a place in the middle of Alaska, and then just forget about it. Civilians, a lot less so. Anyway."

They were back on paved roads, and then down into a garage. Georgia got out, and Mel followed her, as the Aleut guy and 1421 ambled out, heading up somewhere else. "So, anyway," said Georgia. "There are a few of us here. Mostly, people go back home, or head out anywhere else--not that hard to do, once you've learned how to do it."

Mel could well imagine. Georgia had convinced her that she was there when she wasn't there, and she'd left her immobilized without realizing that she was immobilized. She wouldn't have any problem at all convincing a stewardess that she had a ticket to anywhere she wanted. They were--

"Little bit frightening, yeah," said Georgia. She took hold of Mel's hand, and pulled her through a door, next to a garage.

It was a small room, with a cot, and a toilet. And a doctor's table, and some cabinets.

"Have a seat," said Georgia, and Mel sat down, terrified and impossibly turned on and not sure even what to think, let alone say.

"So, one option, you go to sleep here, and you wake up somewhere else, with... well, there aren't that many of us, really. I needed to to check that knock-out effect, because otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get the switch right this time. So it's not going to be a really in-depth backstory which lots of people believe. But whatever. You'll be a turnip farmer out wherever they farm turnips."

"Or."

"Right. So the problem is that we can do stuff that normal people can't. And that's... well, you know. US isn't the only country which is aware of that, the US military aren't the only people abducting randos with open minds. So, one possibility is that we find them first, teach them how to do more than they can, things move from there. Or maybe, we can figure out how to open people's minds."

"Open..." that was the thing, that was the trap that they'd fallen into. Treating things as intrinsic rather than trainable. And that wasn't just specific skills. If Georgia could learn to transmit, why couldn't she learn to exert force at a distance. Or... well, why couldn't Mell?

"Exactly the question. I mean, took a little convincing, but it's not like anyone here doesn't know about what you're into, so there's plenty of options as far as how we're going to try to encourage that."

Mel went completely red at that, so fast that it made her dizzy. She hadn't done anything inappropriate, not ever, certainly not compared to what the rest of the staff had been doing. But they'd all seen her thoughts, they all knew how she'd be fascinated by their tortures, only imagining herself there. It wasn't fair, and--

"And that's kind of the problem," said Georgia. "I mean, if we can do this, and everyone else can't, there are real limits to how well they'll be able to tolerate us. You know? So it means either hiding, or taking over, or people trying to kill us. So, here's hoping this works."

Mel nodded. It made sense. She couldn't really see how--

"There you go," said Georgia. "That's the first thing we're going to try."

What?

Georgia got a blindfold out of the cabinet, and gave it to Mel. It was a medical blindfold. They'd experimented with those for clairvoyance experiments, and they could be worn for extended periods--weeks, if necessary. Mel put it on, but she couldn't get the straps buckled properly. Georgia helped, behind her, and there was a definite satisfaction in the way she pulled the straps taut. "You'll see when you can see," she said. She took hold of Mel's hand, and Mel squeezed back, and then let herself be led to the medical table.

"I mean," said Georgia. "It might be that this isn't going to work. But it's going to be a long time before I'm ready to give up, and I've got lots of things to try."

There were restraints for her arms and for her legs. And then there was the cold of surgical shears, cutting through Mel's blouse. She twisted as Georgia cut away her clothing, testing the strength of the restraints, and being obscurely comforted by the fact that she absolutely wasn't getting loose.

"And even if you did," said Georgia, running her hand along Mel's side, up to her breasts, flicking at her nipple, and then dipping between her thighs, "it's not like you can get away. I mean, you don't know where you are, and we can see your thoughts."

That was... Mel shivered, as Georgia's fingers pushed into her pussy, strong and sure and already wet. Mel was somewhere between sympathetic and terrified, but she was definitely ready. "If it doesn't work," said Georgia, "long term, you're going to be a fun pet. But I kind of think that it's going to work just fine."

She stepped back, adjusted something; Mel could hear her moving, but the blindfold was completely effective. "We'll be working on opening your mind, but honestly, there's really a lot that you want to see, isn't there?"

There was something warm near her; Mel reached up with her mouth, and found Georgia's breast, as Georgia's fingers went back to work on her pussy. She sucked, hungrily. Georgia was smiling at her; Mel knew that, she could almost feel it. But she really really wanted to see it.

Well, maybe some day. Maybe soon, maybe not. There were lots of things they could try--she knew about them, and they knew everything she knew, and some of them were going to be terrible. The waterboarding and sensory deprivation and everything else.

She flicked her tongue on Georgia's nipple, then bit down, just a little, and was rewarded by the gasp and sucked-in breath that she'd expected and hoped for. Maybe they'd open her mind, maybe soon.

But hopefully, not too soon.


End file.
